


A Little Sweetness

by orphan_account



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Pushing Daisies Fusion, Childhood Sweethearts, First Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hopeful Ending, Idol Wooyoung, M/M, Pushing Daisies AU, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, brief mention of animal/minor character death, detective mingi, piemaker san, waiter yunho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-01-24 04:47:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18564211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "What is it you do exactly, Sannie?" Wooyoung asked.San gazed longingly at the boy he'd brought back to life, the boy he'd been in love with for over 8 years, “I just—well, it’s pretty much I make pies and wake the dead.” He said, and then added quickly, “Do you want a slice of pie? Cherry? Strawberry—?”________Choi San—Age: 24 years, 7 months, 18 weeks, 6 days, 8 hours and 55 minutes—is a pie maker and part-time ressurector of the dead. He's also brought his childhood sweetheart back to life, and knows detective Mingi will not be happy about it at all.[WooSan Pushing Daisies AU]





	1. Chapter 1

The corpse before them stayed still, lifeless. It was a natural thing to witness, death. It was all around them constantly, but it was a thing one couldn’t really get used to, fully. No matter how many times one was in the presence of something so un-alive, it seemed to change the atmosphere, the feeling of warmth. 

No longer was life the same in the midst of death. And that was strange because nothing else could do it just like it. It was a unique phenomenon, something that occurred everyday. And above all else, it was _permanent_. 

Nothing and no one could bring back the dead body displayed in front of him. He didn’t want to imagine such a thing happening. Raising the dead? That was utterly insane. First of all, he never wanted to do any of that. It disturbed him greatly, and it always would. 

Because in reality, he couldn’t bring back the guy he’d brought to life for only a mere minute. San knew his power could only resurrect someone once. Other than that, it was impossible for him to do it again. 

But yes, he could (technically) bring back someone from death. It was a gift he’d used on occasion, and it was a power he did not like one bit. 

San was a man who’d grown up in a relatively normal household, with a mother and a father, two loving grandparents, and an overall good family with good friends and a good life. The main problem with all of this though, was the fact that since his mother and grandmother before him held the power of life, then that ultimately meant San would have the gift as well. 

Unfortunately for him, he didn’t take it as lightly as they had when they first learned of this power. Of course, he was only sixteen when he used it, after his beloved dog Shiber had been run over by a car. 

It only took San a second to reach out to his lifeless dog on the road, only to find that with a single touch, a single zap of his finger—he had brought the canine back to life. 

Shaking him from his momentary mix of thoughts after witnessing the dead man before him turn . . . dead . . . again, his partner in crime (literally) Mingi, watched him closely but kept his distance. The tall detective always seemed to do that after San had done his . . . magic? Could he call it that? 

He sighed under his breath, taking a step back from the corpse. “Did you get the information you wanted?” 

Mingi nodded smugly, “All of it.” 

“Then can we leave?” San held his own arms, observing the tiny room. The coroner must’ve been holding more than ten bodies in that single morgue alone. It was the size of a mere kitchen, surrounded by metal refrigerators that gleamed in the bright white light of the medical lamps above. 

His detective friend pushed his hat up and waved a hand to the door. At times, he thought Mingi would’ve been the better life-bringer-er. If that made any sense. 

“By all means, go ahead.” The taller said, opening the door. 

San strode out of the room quickly, still with his hands wrapped around himself. He hadn’t even looked back to say goodbye to the bespectacled coroner at the desk. 

Hongjoong, the medical examiner, turned to Mingi as the detective closed the door behind them. “Did you experts find what you were looking for again?” 

Mingi followed San and ignored the coroner, “Yes we did!” He replied cheekily. “Thanks for letting us take a look~” 

The doctor only sighed at their departure. 

San couldn’t argue. Mingi was unusually bright under morbid circumstances, which was weird because he was generally a scaredy cat a majority of the time with anything else. Unlike him, San was always queasy. 

He was never used to it. Bringing dead people back from the grave. It made him shiver every damn time he touched them dead again. He couldn’t even find proper words to call this . . . this condition he had. 

And he hated calling it a ‘gift’. When Mingi had first learned about it, he’d called it that. San almost refused to help the detective when he’d heard him utter such words. But with his pie shop needing the money, and with his employees and his apartment—he couldn’t refuse the offer of helping this sneaky detective by collecting bounty on criminals who’d escaped without evidence on their hands. 

It was a good way to use this power, but at the same time, he’d always felt guilty. Not once had he ever felt great about bringing anything or anyone back to life. Maybe his dog Shiber, but even that wasn’t better. He couldn’t pet his beloved dog without sending her back to the afterlife. 

Yeah. Touch once, alive again. Touch twice, dead forever. 

That was his power—

No, his _curse_. 

If only he knew how to escape it. Unlike the people he brought back, there was no one to bring back San from feeling guilty about it all. Helping others by giving them justice didn’t aid him either. In the end, he figured this was just how life was going to be: full of death.

# ________

Choi San—Age: 24 years, 7 months, 18 weeks, 6 days, 8 hours and 55 minutes—is a pie maker and part-time ressurector of the dead. 

His friend, San Mingi: 23 years, 8 months, 10 weeks, 3 days, 4 hours and 2 minutes—is a private detective and constant annoyance in the pie shop for a majority of the time. His favorite pie, strawberry, with a steaming cup of hot black coffee on the side, was always given to him once he arrived. 

They’d been acquainted for two years. The first time they met was an accident, actually. Mingi was fresh out of the police force at the age of 21, with a dream to become a private detective. 

What he hadn’t known, was how hard it was to investigate murders while trying to catch _murderers_. With the thought of how young he was, he had continued to chase down a suspect on the rooftops of Seoul, narrowly escaping death and jumping from roof to roof until the man he was chasing suddenly slipped and fell over the edge of a fire escape. 

The last thought Mingi had while watching him fall was that his reward money was going to go over the edge too, down into the gutter. 

What he found, to his surprise, was San taking out his garbage for the day, as well as the man who had fallen ten stories down, _alive_ the moment he touched the pie maker, but then dead again when San grabbed his arm. 

Mingi realized then that he had found a new partner in crime. 

This detective was taking a bite out of that pie San had plated him only moments ago. They were both sitting in a booth, watching as people came and went, purchasing pies and coffee and having a relatively good time. 

It seemed as if everyone but San was happy to be alive and out. Even Mingi had a permanent grin on his face upon entering the pie establishment. It must’ve been due to the fact that San had just taken out the fresh, fragrant strawberry pie, or because his star waiter had been working at the counter, coincidentally. 

San had to stop the man in front of him from staring at the tall, dark-haired waiter at the bar by snapping his fingers in his face. 

Mingi turned to him, strawberry jam on his lip, “What?” 

“Earth to Mingi.” San complained, dropping his hands to the table. As much as he loved pie, he couldn’t consume any of it unless he wanted to eat rotten fruit (yes he could bring fruit back to life). Therefore, only Mingi was enjoying the sweet taste of baked goods and a smile from someone he liked. 

No wonder San was being grumpy. 

Mingi must’ve noticed this, “Hey, we caught the guy with the evidence you got me.” He encouraged, “We should be celebrating~” 

“Maybe you should take my power and use it yourself.” San grumbled. 

The detective took San’s hand and waved it in the air, “Really? Can you do that? That would be more efficient for me—” 

“I can’t.” He said, bringing his hand back. “You know that.” 

“Yeah, I know.” Mingi replied, smiling much too widely for San to handle. Mingi with a fresh bounty was always intolerable. “Hey, by the way, do you think you could call Yunho over—” 

“Just get to the point on why you’re even here in the first place.” He interrupted the man. 

Mingi simply exhaled, “Okay, okay. I was only messing with you . . .” 

The detective usually came around when there was something serious going on. And when he meant ‘serious’, he meant that there was probably another bounty with a hefty amount of money on the line. 

That was what they were used to anyway. San was a pie maker by night, with his employees as his good friends, and with Shiber waiting for him in his cosy apartment at the end of his shift. By day (usually), San was an assistant-private detective, bringing dead people back to life in order to ask them who their murderer was. It only took a minute, but sometimes those sixty seconds felt more like an eternity. 

Mingi had a pretty good stomach when it came to witnessing these people come back to life. Unlike San, who hated touching dead things, Mingi had been a cop previously, and thus he’d seen much more than San. Which was impressive because, you know, San was able to bring back dead things from the . . . dead. 

And now the hardcore detective had eyes for one of San’s employees. It was annoying, but what else could he do when he knew his two different lives would collide one day? It wasn’t like something more momentous was going to occur. 

The tall man placed his fork down on the table and stared at San determinedly. It was the same stare that held the image of cold, hard cash in his eyes. That was something they could always agree on, despite their differences, cash was the one thing they mutually loved. 

“I’ve got a famous case this time.” Mingi told him. 

San continued to lend his ear with a curt nod of his head. He hadn’t listened or watched any television or radio lately. Because at times it was truly hard to do so. Living with his ability, it was no wonder he didn’t like hearing about _more_ death on the five o’clock news. 

“Famous?” San repeated him. They hadn’t gotten a famous case in well over a year. The last case had been about some girl murdered on a cruise. It was incredibly messy. Literally. The girl had been covered in seaweed and sea junk. 

Mingi tapped at his temple, “Very famous.” He leaned over the table, cupping his hand over his mouth so that San could only hear him whisper, “Do you listen to idol groups?” 

San froze. 

_Idol groups?_

He looked to the man wearily, unable to really respond to that question. “Are you making fun of the fact that I’ve been a trainee before?” 

Mingi sat back, appearing slightly surprised, “Really?” 

“Yeah.” San crossed his arms. He hadn’t meant to blurt that out, but it was true. 

It had only been for two years. His trainee life was short but beneficial. It was a thing that had taught him a lot in only a small amount of time. And sure he loved it, singing and dancing were a passion, though with his ‘special’ ability, it made things difficult. 

He couldn’t handle the mental torment one undergoes during training, whilst handling the fact that he could bring people back to life. No, after two years he’d had enough. At one point, he even came to the conclusion that living a nice, quiet life would be better, for everyone. 

So, yes, he had been a trainee. And just the thought that maybe one of his old trainees was the victim slightly stabbed at his heart. He’d made good friends during that period in his life, and he didn’t want to hear of any names he used to know. 

Still, he persisted, “Go on.” 

Mingi, quiet as San finished collecting his thoughts, spoke again, “An idol.” He said, voice lower than it usually was, “From KQ Entertainment.” 

San visibly stiffened at that. 

That had been _his_ old company. 

Now it was certain that he probably knew the person. But who could it have been? One of the female trainees, or maybe even . . . 

Mingi slid a tanned folder to him across the table, watching him carefully. It was evident that the booth they were sitting in had become heavy once it was clear that they both had some sort of connection to the victim. 

“The body was found early in the morning behind the company building. In the alley way.” Mingi told him. “It was a hit and run.” 

San took the folder in his hands, opening it. 

“His family and company placed a huge reward for anyone who can find the killer.” Mingi continued. 

The folder was thin, much thinner than the ones San had previously held. Usually, they were covered in newspaper clippings, notes taken from the police radio, and even evidence stolen from the sight. 

This time, only a single business card was there. 

It was—

“His name is Jung Wooyoung.” The detective said. “Around 24 years old, like you, I think.” 

San held onto the card, thumb pressed against the telephone number of the young man he’d once known back then. The man who had been his first friend at the company. The man who’d taught him to dance, to perform—

The man he’d been in love with for over 8 years.

# ________

The facts were these: 

Jung Wooyoung—Aged 24 years, 11 months, 7 weeks, 4 days, 9 hours and 33 minutes—had been killed in a hit and run behind his company building of KQ Entertainment. The famous idol, who had debuted at age 19, had been a solo artist for nearly five years until his untimely death. The perpetrator, still at large, had left clues of tire marks on the floor, as well as a handkerchief and a pair of round broken glasses. 

A large award was announced by both the family and the company. The police had deemed it as only a hit and run accident, but were still actively gathering more evidence and eye-witnesses relating to his death. 

Since the well-liked idol was respected by both the entertainment and fan community, the case had been rather difficult to solve. No one, it seemed, knew of anyone who would commit such a crime to what was once a lovely person.

# ________

“So you were childhood friends,” Mingi stated, guessing after watching San’s obvious expression of distraught on his face. 

San gazed out of the funeral home window, watching the wide, colorful field of daisies sway in the afternoon breeze. It was a beautiful day, so unlike the usual mood surrounding death. It reminded him of the last day he ever saw Jung Wooyoung. Even though it’d been raining then, with the arrival and departure of his long lost love, the day had grown gradually clearer, brighter, more happy in the presence of the man San had longed for, but given up. 

He knew what it would mean if he’d stayed behind with him in their trainee days. He didn’t want to bring his own burden to the boy he loved. Wooyoung didn’t deserve to live a life with such a heavy secret. He couldn’t tell his old friend that San held the power to bring back life. Wooyoung was nearly ready to debut when they’d finally realized how much of a crush had developed between them. And by then, San had decided to leave for good, for the sake of giving the one he cared for a bright future, a future without death. 

But in the end, death had found him anyway. 

“He was only a friend I thought about on occasion.” San lied blatantly to Mingi. “Nothing else.” 

Mingi was a cop before, therefore his senses were much keener. Keen enough to spot a liar, “Did you think about him a lot when you were sixteen?” 

“When I was sixteen, yes.” San continued to avoid eye contact, and chose to remain staring out the window. “Now I don’t.” 

“Right . . .” The detective said, unconvinced. 

San was indeed lying. He had thought about Wooyoung everyday, even though he knew he shouldn’t have. Sometimes he would think about how the other was doing, and how his career was going. 

He never watched the news, and so it was hard for him to really know if Wooyoung had made it. But judging from what Mingi had told him, he now knew that the idol had grown to be a major success. San was happy about that. What he wasn’t happy about, was the fact that someone out there had gotten away with murder. 

Sure he’d met nice people before, but if there was one person who didn’t deserve to die, then it was Jung Wooyoung. Even at sixteen he’d been the kindest person San had ever had the fortune to meet. He wasn’t surprised the entire nation was weeping over such an individual. He wanted to cry too. 

He held on though, because out of all the people in South Korea, _San_ was the one who could see Wooyoung once again, for only a minute. 

Honestly, he had so many things he wanted to tell him. First of all, San wanted to admit that he’d always loved him, and no one else. He wanted to tell Wooyoung how much he’d changed his life, how much light he’d brought to San. 

Being a teenager back then, full of hormones and a power to bring the dead to life—it had been so hard for San to go through. Wooyoung had seen this inner turmoil, and offered him a helping hand, despite not knowing what San could do. 

Would he have run away if San told him? 

Probably. 

That was why San never did, even after sharing their first kiss—

San turned from the window to look at the closed door to his right. It was a solid door, made of red oak. The entire funeral home was ancient. Mingi and he could talk about his ability with ease, since no one could actually hear them through such thick walls. 

The detective clamped a hand on his shoulder, “I convinced the funeral director to let us in.” 

“How?” San asked, “The usual way?” 

Mingi let go of him, “You can convince anyone with money.” He said, jutting a thumb to the closed door where . . . _Wooyoung_ was. “Let’s go.” 

San thought for a moment. If he was going to be seeing his childhood love again, then it was probably gonna be extremely awkward if Mingi was there as well. It was already awkward watching his detective and waiter eyeing each other during work. 

“Can I—” San grabbed onto Mingi’s coat, stopping him, “Can I do this one alone?” 

Mingi was skeptical, but the lines in his face smoothed out once he saw how troubled San was, “Are you sure?” 

“Positive.” San rubbed his hands together, feeling nervous. “I just want to do this alone, since—you know—childhood friends and . . . stuff.” 

“I get it.” Mingi backed away from the door, but not without giving San a wink. “Just don’t forget to get the evidence from the victim.” 

“Right.” San replied, much too quickly. 

The evidence. The reason as to why they were there in the first. That was top priority. This was still business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short intro to the story!! :)  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

It was still business, but San couldn’t help but let the tightness in his throat increase once he’d slammed the door shut behind him. 

He’d grown antsy in the short time away from the detective. He knew Mingi as a sort of leverage to the real world during these events. Without the annoying man there, San was feeling a little hesitant about the entire thing. 

He was about to see the friend he’d loved for so long. He hadn’t seen him in well over 8 years. How much had he changed? San grew much taller than when he was 16, and his features had become more mature. He looked even more like his father now than before. But Wooyoung . . . 

San wanted to know what Wooyoung had grown up to be. 

Cautiously, as if the coffin would open on it’s own, San walked towards it and placed his hands on the lid, fingers sliding beneath the smooth wood to open the box slowly. 

He stared at the ceiling as he did so, but then dropped his eyes to where he was lifting the coffin. He hadn’t noticed how much he was shaking before. Though now as he continued to raise the lid, he slowly drew up the confidence he needed to face his old love. 

With one hand, he held up the lid, keeping it in place, unlocking the sleeping boy from the confines of his wooden bed. San all but gasped at what he’d done, and more so at what he was seeing. 

Wooyoung was beautiful. 

His eyes were softly closed, colored in ashy, golden hues that accentuated the curvature of his lids. Long lashes fluttered down, dark, brushing the golden apples of his cheeks. His lips— _wow_ , his lips were stained pink, nearly red, the color of the roses he was holding in his hands. 

San felt breathless as he gazed at the man. Wooyoung had changed dramatically since the last time San had seen him. But all in all, he couldn’t deny the one laying in front of him had always been beautiful. 

It just hurt him to know that they could finally meet again, but under these circumstances. It didn’t even look like Wooyoung was dead. The man simply appeared as if he was sleeping peacefully. 

Without realizing it, San reached out for the other’s golden hair, dyed, and matching the color of his eyeshadow and clothes. The man was wearing a comfortable suit, grey, with a velvet blue tie. 

Quickly, he brought his hand back. 

San wanted to touch him, but where? The lips? No, that would’ve been too forward. His hand? Near his temple? What about the cheek? 

Yes, the cheek. 

Slowly and carefully, he took his finger, raising it above the young man. Then, with a current of energy that ran through his entire body, he pressed the soft cheek below him, and felt life rushing out of him and onto the one resting in death. 

Instantaneous. 

Wooyoung sprang back to life instantly with a huge breath of air, eyes open in shock. San took a step back, hands shaking even more now than before. Funny, because when he’d reached out to Wooyoung, he hadn’t been trembling. 

The man in thought was sitting upright in the coffin, still holding the rose bouquet in his hands. His face indicated that he was confused, and maybe even sad. 

San felt a great need to go up to him, to tell him everything was okay, even though he knew it wasn’t. 

And just when he was about to do that, Wooyoung looked at him for the first time in 8 years. 

It was electric. 

“Sannie?” He said, dropping the bouquet over the side of the coffin. 

San could feel his knees turn week at the nickname. No one had called him that since . . . since . . . “Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung’s confused face turned immediately into a warm smile. It made San feel alive, “Oh my goodness, Sannie—” He made a move to get out of the coffin, but San stopped him. 

“Wooyoung, first off,” He raised his hands up to halt him, and then spread his arms out to reveal just where they were. It was then that he finally eyed the watch on his arm. He only had sixty seconds. 

The man in the coffin looked down to where he was currently sitting. After a second of registering the situation, his smile faltered, “I’m . . . I’m . . .” 

“I brought you back to life.” San confessed. 

Wooyoung raised himself up, still surprised, but he managed to escape the confines of that box. Standing, he wasn’t much taller than when San had last seen him. 

“You can bring people back to life?” He asked. 

San nodded, “That’s the secret I couldn’t tell you back then.” 

“That’s why you left?” Wooyoung said, answering his own question. “Sannie, I would’ve understood—” 

“And we only have sixty—or, forty seconds left until—” San continued to step back as Wooyoung took more steps forward, “Actually, who killed you, Wooyoung?” 

Wooyoung tried to understand everything that was going on, but his troubled expression said otherwise, “Well, it was an accident—but Sannie, why do I only have sixty seconds?” 

“And you can’t touch or come near me,” He told him. Wooyoung looked distraught at that. “Or else you’ll go back to being . . .” His gaze landed to the coffin. 

It was then that Wooyoung fully processed everything. 

“It was an accident.” Wooyoung recounted, sighing. “An employee told me to meet her in the back alley of the company because she wanted to confess to me and—” The young man’s eyes searched the floor, remembering the events of that night, “And she forgot to put the brakes on, so I pushed her out of the way and . . .” 

“You sacrificed yourself.” San concluded. 

They remained silent for two seconds, but it felt like an eternity. They didn’t have eternity though. They only had thirty seconds left. 

Wooyoung took a look at San’s watch. He knew too. “Sannie.” 

“Wooyoung.” 

“Is this goodbye, then?” He said. His eyes had fallen onto San’s. They brought on so many memories, memories of the past. Of holding hands secretly after hours in the dance rooms, sharing a bed in the dorms, and sneaking out in the middle of the night to run around the streets of Seoul. 

The streets where San had stopped to stare at Wooyoung, both sixteen then. The empty street, beneath the flickering light where Wooyoung took the initiative and lifted himself to reach San’s height, to plant a small, delicate kiss to his lips. Steady, innocent, and full of possibilities. 

That same boy was there, gazing at him with that familiar mixture of curiosity and . . . and _love_ . . . 

“Yeah,” San said. 

Wooyoung walked up to him, “The touch can be anywhere?” 

San nodded. 

“One more question,” Wooyoung tilted his head, “Why did you bring me back to life?” 

He held his breath, “B-because we’re friends—” 

Wooyoung raised a brow, “Is it just because of that?” 

They fell silent. They both knew San was lying. 

“I like you.” He admitted. They were in each other’s space. Intimate. “You were my first crush—I mean . . . My first—my first . . . kiss.” San knew he was stumbling on his words. He couldn’t help it. 

Wooyoung smiled warmly at him, “You were my first kiss too.” 

San breathed in a sharp breath, but he couldn’t let it go. 

“Do you want to be my last?” Wooyoung offered. 

“Yes . . .” San sounded breathless, “I mean—no. I mean—yes . . .” 

They both watched the clock on his arm, ticking downward, onto the last few seconds they had together. Why did time feel so much faster when you wanted it to go slow? 

Without saying anything, Wooyoung stood on his tip-toes, just as he had when he’d given San his first kiss. It was nostalgic, heart-fluttering, and it made him well-up with something like tenderness at watching the man in front of him lean forward, eyes closed, ready to be kissed. 

“It was nice seeing you again, Sannie.” 

The time they were given was cruel. Only sixty seconds. San wanted to know what he’d done to deserve such a thing. He wanted to know what Wooyoung had done to deserve such an untimely death. They didn’t deserve any of this. None of it. And San knew he’d never defied the laws of nature ever. Though this time, after witnessing every frustration he’d ever had in only a single day, the day he’d learned of the death of his childhood love—he knew, for once in his life, it was time he took fate into his own hands.

San’s lips went as far as they could go, but he couldn’t will them to move more forward. He just couldn’t. 

Wooyoung opened his eyes slightly to look at him, “You don’t have to, Sannie, we can do it differently—“ 

“No— _No_ , I just—“ San gazed down at the young man, at his eyes, bright, full of the life he’d always known and admired. This was a light he didn’t want to send away. “What if . . . you didn’t have to be dead?”

# ________

Mingi was waiting outside as his friend and partner San flung open the door and shut it loudly behind him. The guy seemed to be nervous or—emotional. It was a normal thing to see when they did this. San was usually pretty high-strung when it came to his ability. 

Thankfully, Mingi never had the misfortune of wielding that power. He was grateful for everything San had done, but this time he was feeling uncertain. Maybe bringing up a case so personal was a bad idea this time? 

His friend walked up to him, sweat on his brow, “I—I did it. He’s—dead.” 

“And you got the information?” Mingi asked. 

The pie maker ran a hand through his messy hair. He must’ve been tussling it out of nervousness. It was probably best not to ask how their conversation went now. Later, maybe, but not now. “One of the employees at the company.” He told him, “But it was an accident. The brakes weren’t on and he—” 

“Okay.” He didn’t let the man continue. He seemed troubled enough. “I can work with this.” 

“Then . . .” San spoke, rushing his words, “Then I’ll stay for the funeral service to say—to say my goodbyes and . . . stuff.” 

Mingi lifted a brow at him. 

He was acting strange. Though San tended to act strange sometimes during cases. He wasn’t as used to this career as Mingi was. He couldn’t blame him. No one but a handful of people could live this lifestyle. 

“I get it.” Mingi patted his friend’s shoulder, “But I already saw them lifting the coffin into the hearse.” He pointed to the window, “They’re already halfway to the plot of land—” 

San’s eyes widened as he bolted to the front door of the funeral home, “Mingi—I’ll—I’ll see you later then—!” 

Without so much as a last wave of goodbye, he’d left Mingi alone standing in the empty hallway. 

Yeah, something fishy was going on.

# ________

After successfully locating the correct plot of land for the coffin, San then proceeded to distract the landscapers by setting their car on fire. It was the only way he could keep the men from staying over the coffin, shovels in hand, ready to bring the boy he loved down into the earth. 

Before he’d left, he promised Wooyoung that he could remain living. What he didn’t tell him though, was that in exchange for his life, another would have to be taken. 

San felt guilty for not telling Mingi, because if one was in close proximity, then they were most likely a candidate in mind to die instead. But thanks to some otherworldly god out there, or destiny, his detective friend had been spared, much to San’s relief. 

But if Mingi was alive, then did that mean the only other person in the building had died due to San’s selfishness? If so, then that shady funeral home director must’ve been the victim. 

He didn’t feel bad for that. The old man had swindled and taken money from so many people, San was sort of happy that an individual like him had died in place of someone who truly deserved to live. 

And the boy in mind was doing just that. Living. 

San reached down the half-dug hole to lift the coffin lid up, swinging it open to reveal the lovely face of the young man he had loved for eight years and more. The one who he never forgot—

Wooyoung smiled brightly at him from where he lay, eyes crinkling in happiness at seeing San once again. And San could only do the same. 

Here was the one person he’d ever been happy to bring back. And San was going to do everything he could to make it stay that way. 

Wooyoung wasn’t going to die today, nor any day after this. 

Without the use of words, they gazed at each other, knowing exactly what the other was thinking. They were both alive, together, and under such unique circumstances. There was no one else in the whole world who knew what they were feeling, and that just made it all the more special for them. 

“Hey,” San greeted, still holding up the coffin lid. 

Wooyoung laughed softly, cheeks flushing, _alive_ , “Hey, Sannie.”

# ________

The pie shop was located in a relatively nice spot in the midst of Seoul. Crowded in the day, lazy at night, the streets that surrounded the tiny shop were filled with other similar establishments that invited tourists and locals constantly. 

It was good for business, and having the apartments nestled above the store was a great bonus as well. That meant San had regulars. Some of his employees even lived in those homes. 

What he did have to deal with though, was the fact that his star waiter Yunho lived directly across from him. Which meant that his detective was seen more often, especially at night. It was bad enough that he frequented the pie shop. It was like San couldn’t have a breath of fresh air anywhere. 

But work was work, and if he had wanted to escape it, he should’ve chosen an apartment far from the pie shop. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the richest of people, and so he had to stay. 

It was a good thing sometimes. Because Yunho was good with dogs, and could help San with taking care of Shiber while he was away. 

Upon entering his small apartment, the energetic Shiba Inu wagged her tail at the guest. She was always happy to greet new people. And she’d known Wooyoung previously, when San had secretly brought her into the dorms when he was a trainee. 

Shiber had stayed with them for a solid month until the managers and instructors noticed that something was going on. In the end, she had to be sent home to his parents again, and so did he, eventually. But before that could happen, the poor canine had ran out of the company building whilst San was packing. And, amid the busy streets of Seoul, she had been hit by a car. 

Wooyoung knelt on his knees and outstretched his arms for the dog to tackle him into a tender hug. The shiba licked at the young man’s face enthusiastically, wagging her tail as if to tell him, _I love you, I love you, I love you~!_

San felt a little jealous. 

But having the chance to witness such a sight was amazing. It did wonders to his heart, seeing the one he loved being so alive, playing with Shiber, in his apartment, looking as happy and beautiful as he always did. San never thought this day would ever come. 

Wooyoung continued patting Shiber’s round head as he looked up at him. San had been leaning against his closed doorway, arms crossed, watching them with a soft smile on his face. It was obvious how elated he felt. 

“I thought Shiber . . .” The words died in his throat. It was true Shiber had died a long time ago. Everyone, including all the trainees who knew her, thought she was dead. “I thought she was gone too.” 

San shook his head, “I brought her back.” 

“Is she the only animal you’ve brought back?” He asked. 

No. No Shiber wasn’t the only animal San revived. The first thing he ever brought back was her, but before that, he had always tried to avoid using his power. 

He was only sixteen at the time. 

Wooyoung observed him with concern, and changed the subject, “You said you did detective work?” 

San exhaled, allowing the prior subject to dissipate. The subject of Mingi wasn’t easy either. “It’s complicated.” 

“Everything about this is complicated, Sannie.” He reminded him. 

He was correct. Wooyoung had a right to know what was going on. Since San brought him back to life, it was clear he was a part of their team now. He just didn’t know how Mingi would react to knowing this information. He would probably be infuriated that San had put him in the line of fire. He still felt guilty about that. 

“Mingi and I . . . we . . . well, I wake the dead,” San started, and ended with, “And we find out who killed these victims and . . . we collect the bond . . .” 

Wooyoung blinked, “Really?” 

“It sounds pretty terrible when I say it out loud.” He scratched the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed. This entire setup Mingi and he had was rather shady and wrong. They were basically cheating the laws of the universe for money. 

Though he couldn’t deny the justice they brought these people. It felt good to bring in the real murderers and release the ones who were wrongfully accused. 

“But only for a minute?” Wooyoung remembered. “Why a minute?” 

San bit his lip. This was what he was really avoiding. But he couldn’t hold it out any longer. How would the man feel knowing his new life had been guaranteed because someone else died? 

“I only give these people a minute because that’s all I can do,” San said. “If they stay alive for any longer . . .” He stared into Wooyoung’s eyes, “If they stay for any longer, then someone else in close proximity will die in their place.” 

A second passed until Wooyoung sat back, head rested against the wall behind him, “So you’re saying someone died today . . . while I lived?” 

“That funeral director, I think.” He replied. “I know he was a bad person, but still, I—” 

Wooyoung placed his hand next to San’s, “It’s okay, Sannie.” 

San looked away. 

Was it really okay? He had already placed such a huge burden on Wooyoung, and now this? “Wooyoung—” 

“I’m incredibly tired, for some reason,” Wooyoung cut him off, scratching the Shiba’s chin. “Do people feel this tired after they’ve come back from the dead?” 

There it was, that sudden urgency to eliminate the terrible mood. San appreciated it, but he also didn’t want Wooyoung to avoid it. For now though, maybe it was best to drop it. They were finally together again. They didn’t need negativity. 

“I don’t know. You’re the only person I’ve ever brought back, permanently.” San confessed. He hadn’t known how cheesy it would sound aloud. He half-regretted saying it. 

Wooyoung turned away from him, as if flustered by the confession, “Oh . . .” 

Silence washed over the apartment. All they could hear was the soft breathing of the overly excited Shiba still in the grasp of the undead boy. 

San knelt on the floor as well, keeping his distance from Wooyoung. The other saw this, and asked another question, “I can’t touch you?” 

“Nope.” 

“So I can't even hug you?” Wooyoung questioned, astonished, “But what if you need a hug?” 

“I’ll live.” San told him, ignoring his own pun. 

Wooyoung pouted, “Then a kiss is out of the question?” 

San opened his mouth, not to speak, but to let it fall open in shock, “Um—well . . . yes.” 

Wooyoung smiled. It was one of San’s favorite things to witness, “I’d kiss you if it wouldn’t kill me.” 

He hadn’t realized how close he’d leaned in to the young man. Wooyoung had done so too, but neither made any indication to move away. 

The idol smelled like flowers, daisies, very fragrant and addictive. It clashed with San’s constant scent of fresh baked bread, sugared fruits, and chocolate. 

Suddenly, Shiber moved in between them, shattering the small moment they’d been sharing of simply gazing into each other’s faces, reading how different they’d changed in eight years. 

Wooyoung raised his hand, hovering it around San’s cheek, “You grew up, Sannie.” 

“So did you, Wooyoung.” San did the same hand movement, not touching the other. 

“I wish we’d grown up together . . .” Wooyoung lowered his arm to wrap it around Shiber, giving her a hug. “But we can do that now.” He assured San, eyeing him as he embraced the Shiba, “And every time I want to give you a hug, I’ll hug Shiber.” 

As if responding to his words, Shiber licked Wooyoung’s face happily. 

San kept those words in his head, letting them float, seep into his thoughts. This was one of the reasons why he loved Wooyoung. Wooyoung could never let anything spoil his positive attitude. If something came to drown his spirits, the boy would simply respond with positivity, and fire. 

They sat there while San reflected on all of this, until he noticed the young man begin to yawn. It was late, and they’d done so much in a single day, he wasn’t surprised Wooyoung was tired. The guy literally came back from the dead. 

“Take my bed,” San said, and when it seemed like Wooyoung was going to object, he persisted, “I insist.” 

Wooyoung gave up after San threw him an apologetic grin, “Where will you sleep, then?” 

“The couch,” He nodded his head in the direction of his living room, “With Shiber, unless—” 

The shiba jumped atop Wooyoung, replying for him. It was obvious the canine wanted to sleep with her old friend. 

Yeah, San really was jealous now. 

“Well then,” Wooyoung said, petting the dog. He smiled at San all the while though, which must’ve meant that he could easily tell what he was thinking. “Goodnight?” 

San returned the smile, “Goodnight.”

# ________

Was this really happening? It all felt like a dream, honestly. He didn’t know what to think of anything. Sure life was strange, but coming back from the dead was something he’d never dreamed of. 

He couldn’t even remember when he’d died. Just trying to recall those memories was already painful and cloudy, he couldn’t focus whenever he pictured the last moments he had in his previous life. 

First, that employee had parked her car in the alley, but for some reason Wooyoung knew something was wrong from the very beginning. Their company was located on a hill, amid other offices and suites. Cars were coming and going at all hours, especially in the morning. So when she had asked him to meet at night, he didn’t think anything of it at the time. 

But when the moment came, and when he’d noticed the car moving on it’s own, he did the only thing he could’ve done in that tight alleyway—he pushed her out of the way before the car could take her down. Unfortunately, that left no room for him to run. And thus . . . 

He closed his eyes shut, tightly, forgetting those last moments. He remembered being knocked out by the force of the vehicle, but that was all. 

Tiredly, Wooyoung rolled over on the bed, grasping onto the pillow whilst petting the sleeping shiba to his right. He’d left the small lamp on because he was afraid of staying in the dark. It reminded him of being in a coffin. 

He had other fears though. For example, he couldn’t return back to his old idol life without causing a major storm. He knew everyone believed he was dead, and having the police confirm it didn’t help either. 

No, there was no way he would ever be an idol again. 

But . . . that was okay. After much thinking, he found that his goal in life was to solely help people. Being an idol made that dream a reality. He loved to sing, dance, perform, and there were smaller ways in which he could do all of that. 

With newfound determination, he rose from the bed and stretched his limbs above his head. He felt tired all over, but his mind was restless. 

Earlier, he’d even heard the front door opening and closing, which meant that San had felt the same way. 

San . . . 

Wooyoung paused to remember just what his old friend had given him. Life. It was something so precious, so valuable—Wooyoung had begun to believe that no one else in the entire world could give him anything so amazing. 

Shiber awoke beside him and jumped to the floor as well, wagging her tail as Wooyoung slid open what looked to be a closet. 

He’d borrowed a T-shirt and boxers from San, and found that they smelled like the pie shop below them. Which reminded him—had San always wanted to be a pastry chef? Well, he’d once mentioned a dream to become a barista and cafe owner so . . . his dream must’ve come true then. Wooyoung was happy for him. 

His hand brushed the material of the clothes on wire hangers, until he pulled out a trench coat, a hat, and sunglasses from the vanity. 

Shiber pawed at his leg. She probably wanted a walk. Wooyoung couldn’t deny her, so he strapped her collar on from the living room coat rack. 

He was right. San had left. But it was only 11 in the evening. It was too early for people who hadn’t . . . died. Though despite being as tired as he was, he didn’t want to sleep. He’d done enough of that in death. 

And maybe sneaking out was a bad idea, but Wooyoung wanted to breathe in fresh air, to walk around the streets and look at the moon. Because when he was alive, he took those small things for granted. He wanted to appreciate _everything_ , and of course _everyone_. 

Shiber scratched at the front door as Wooyoung opened it hesitantly. 

That was when another door swung open at the same time, revealing a very tall man dressed in a waiter’s uniform. For a minute, Wooyoung panicked, but remembered he was in disguise, thanks to the coat and glasses. 

The dog below him suddenly jumped up in excitement. “Shiber! And . . .?” The tall man looked at Wooyoung, seeming very surprised to find someone leaving San’s apartment. 

Wooyoung lowered his face, coughing, “I’m—uh, San’s friend.” 

The face of the stranger illuminated into a smug grin, “A _friend_?” He said, closing the door behind him. “My name’s Yunho.” 

“N-nice to meet you,” Wooyoung half-mumbled, tugging at Shiber’s collar to get the heck _out_ of there. Maybe a brisk walk under the moonlight was a bad idea. 

Yunho—Age: 24 years, 4 months, 19 days, 10 hours and 32 minutes—stopped him before he could run away. “Hey, you kinda look like that dead guy on the television.” He said, so casually it made Wooyoung freeze. “No offense.” 

Wooyoung turned slightly to send him a small, forced smile. This was going to be more difficult than he imagined. “Distant cousin, actually.”

# ________

San was currently trying to forget about everything that had occurred previously in the day, and all because a certain detective had decided to pop in for a last minute visit to the pie shop. It was making San extremely anxious. And it didn’t help the fact that he’d left the apartment solely to escape this anxiety. It had found him instead. 

That was when the pie shop door opened, bells ringing, indicating that someone had arrived. San had his back to the door, but all he needed to see was Mingi’s expression of delight as Yunho walked around the booth to lean over their table. 

“Hey Mingi, I found someone coming out of San’s apartment,” He pointed behind him at another figure close by, clothed in a trench coat, sunglasses, and a hat. 

Wooyoung. 

The disguised man did a small wave once San had awoken from his sudden shock. “Oh no . . .” 

“Doesn’t he look like that dead guy on the news?” Yunho said innocently. It hurt to hear. The waiter had no idea what he was doing, and that just made it all the more chaotic. 

Mingi’s previous smile faded into a menacing one, directed straight at San. The detective must have recognized who Wooyoung was. “He looks _exactly_ like that dead guy on the news.” His voice, deep as it already was, went deeper in anger. He dug his fork into the wooden table whilst San sank lower in his seat. 

Wooyoung slid into the booth beside Mingi, ignoring the thick tension in the room to greet the new faces. San had forgotten how sociable the guy was. “Hey, everyone, I’m . . . well, I guess you already know . . .”

# ________

Since his friends were inevitably aware that his childhood first love was now alive, everything just needed to collectively fall into place. Much like a bandaid he’d ripped out quickly, not slowly. The truth was out, therefore he could breathe for the meantime, before another explosion erupted, which, wasn’t very surprising in his typical day of life. San was used to seeing the fantastical, as well as strange phenomena the world brought on. Hey, he was a part of it. He could literally wake people from the dead. 

The only normalcy he ever had in his daily life was the fact that he was a piemaker/barista/cafe owner/dog dad. Other than that, well, he had to get used to everything else. One other thing that was quite out of the ordinary was that the man he loved used to be dead. 

San wanted to revel in the thought of being with Wooyoung again, growing alongside him, being the best friend that he used to be. But at the same time he didn’t know what to make of any of it. He’d left Wooyoung behind, and all because he’d been scared of what the other would think about this . . . this . . . power. 

Now he knew. Now Wooyoung was able to understand the situation San was in. And strangely enough, it didn’t appear as if the man had been fearful or disgusted at all by it. In place of that negativity, San found acceptance in Wooyoung’s eyes. It made him relieved. 

He hadn’t known he’d been staring at the man for the past five minutes whilst the other wandered around the kitchen. Mingi and Yunho had left (together), and now it was just San and he in the pie shop, _alone_. 

The low lights weren’t helping. So, he flicked them on while Wooyoung had his head in the fridge, gaping at the shelves upon shelves of rotting fruit that San needed to revive tomorrow for the next batch of pies. 

The shop was built round, with booths beneath large windows near the front, and with a counter that faced the open kitchen. The colors were vibrant in the day, revealing hues of green and red, as well as checkered floors and lamps that illuminated everything in a yellow hazy glow. It was an aesthetic place, which meant they were well-known on Instagram. 

San leaned against his wooden counter. It must’ve been half the size of the kitchen and was covered in flour. San was still wearing his apron, which, was dusted in a coat of white powder as well. He always baked whenever he was nervous. 

Wooyoung turned to look at him, grinning from ear to ear at everything. Beneath the half-open coat he was wearing, San could see the T-shirt and boxers he’d lent him. The young man also had his hair up in a tiny ponytail, the way he used to style it when they practiced choreographies as trainees. Somehow, that made San’s heart feel a little warm. 

The idol slowed his pace as he stood beside San, back against the counter, “Will you tell me about what you’ve accomplished while we were apart, Sannie?” He was peering up at him from his lashes, which meant that San couldn’t lie or distract him from the question. 

San rubbed the back of his neck, feeling hot, “I just—well, it’s pretty much I make pies and wake the dead.” He said, and then added quickly, “Do you want a slice? Cherry? Strawberry—?” 

Wooyoung shook his head, leaning forward. His face was mere inches away from his, any closer and—

San recoiled away from him instantly, taking a wide step back. It had surprised Wooyoung. “Sorry.” His words felt rushed as he watched the fading smile of the undead boy. “We can’t . . .” 

“We can’t touch.” Wooyoung stated. His downturned lips struggled to form another smile. It hurt San to watch. 

After a minute of drowning silence, they returned to standing beside one another. San needed to be careful though, since he was wearing a sleeveless shirt. 

He eyed Wooyoung carefully from his peripheral, but was stopped momentarily. The boy at his side had sighed, revealing everything that was bottled up inside. More than San, it was Wooyoung who was probably feeling the most anxious out of all of them. 

Sure San had brought him back to life, but he was unable to bring him back to his _own_ life. Wooyoung could no longer return to his job, his friends, his _family_. It made San feel incredibly guilty. 

“Was this an act of kindness?” Wooyoung almost whispered. “Saving me?” 

San looked to him, hoping he appeared just as sincere as he felt, “It was out of selfishness. I had selfish reasons, Wooyoung.” 

Wooyoung tilted his head, gazing at him with a hint of a soft, reassuring smile that made San feel a whole lot better about the situation. 

“And like I said before,” San moved his hand in between them, turning it upward on the counter, as if to invite Wooyoung to hold his hand, even though they both knew it would be impossible. “I figured the world would be a better place with you in it.” 

The love of his life inched closer, keeping his hand above San’s cautiously. He wanted so badly to interlock their fingers together, to feel the warmth emanating from him, the _life_. He would do anything in the world to have that. “Thank you, for bringing me back.” 

They stared at each other, like they had back then when San opened the coffin to greet him. This way, they could communicate without words, without words that could hurt the harsh reality they didn’t want to face. 

San slid his hand away to bring a bowl of rotting strawberries towards him. Gingerly, he grabbed the top fruit by the stem and held it out in front of them. With his right index finger, he touched the poor berry, reviving it instantly with a single electric touch of his magic. 

Before them now was a fruit that was ripe, fresh, without a trace of death. 

Wooyoung took it from him, eyes full of wonder. This was the first time in a long time that he’d shown this to anyone but Mingi. Even the detective hadn’t watched him with the same enthusiasm Wooyoung had. 

“You’ve lived with this your entire life?” He asked. 

"Yes." San pushed the bowl of fruit away, ignoring the shiver that overtook his body. He hated bringing things back to life except—except for Wooyoung. “Nothing’s really changed since I left KQ.” He replied honestly, “I went back to my mom and dad, went to school, opened up a pie shop—did you still want that pie?” 

Wooyoung ignored the pie question, “It must be hard, keeping this from everyone.” 

“It has it’s moments.” San knew Wooyoung was only asking him out of concern, but he really didn’t want to talk about the past. 

“I’m sorry, Sannie.” He said. 

San became overwhelmed. Why was he sorry? “No—no, you don’t have anything to be sorry for—” 

Wooyoung looked up at him, “I wish I could repay you in some way.” 

That wasn’t something San needed. What he wanted to tell him was that he already did repay him. He was alive and breathing. That was all San wanted. 

“Y-you don’t have to.” He replied. 

The smaller man didn’t look convinced. Wooyoung eyed the contents of the wooden counter until his gaze landed on a roll of plastic wrap located next to the berries San had held earlier. Determinedly, he brought it close, unraveling it and holding it up in front of their faces. 

San didn’t know what Wooyoung was planning to do, and was no doubt surprised when the blonde man walked forward, eyes locked onto his. 

Without saying anything, San stayed where he stood, frozen. He was unable to move. 

Wooyoung shut his eyes as their proximity closed. San didn’t do the same, not even when their noses pressed against the plastic wrap, and then, their lips . . . 

San felt the plastic first, but as the small kiss deepened, he could feel the warm lips of Wooyoung behind the clear film. He couldn’t help but part his mouth open, falling forward to catch the man’s lips in his, deeper, deeper. 

Wooyoung stood straight, attempting to match their height in order to meet San’s kiss easily. And San could not refrain himself. He wrapped his arms around the small waist of Wooyoung, bringing their bodies close, but far enough from danger. 

The trench coat was a barrier, and so was the plastic wrap. They could hold each other like this. It was the only way San could kiss Wooyoung without worrying. 

And it was a great kiss, despite the lack of skin. It was soft, lingering, and his breath had completely left him, even after they separated to look into each other’s eyes. 

San bent down to lock their lips again, hands latched onto the curves of the man’s waist, dazed and a bit drunk on the intimate atmosphere surrounding them. 

He’d missed him _so_ much.

# ________

San was good at kissing. Wooyoung knew that since the day he gave them their first kiss. It was sweet. 

Even though he couldn’t exactly taste his lips, he imagined what they would be like. The scent of the pie shop, mixed in with the aroma of coffee beans, plus the fact that San already smelled like cookies—

Wooyoung just closed his eyes and allowed the taller young man to embrace him, comfortable in the warm arms of the piemaker, of his best friend. 

He opened his mouth when San parted his lips, kissing him slowly. If he could’ve, he would’ve spent a lifetime doing this. 

Because in that moment. Wooyoung could feel San smiling in their kiss. And that, above all else, made his heart pace quicken. 

It was sweet, but bittersweet.

# ________

Wooyoung lowered the plastic wrap after San released his grip, lips pulled away as he tried to find his breath. It was difficult to do so. 

“T-this is dangerous . . .” San told him, though his face said otherwise. He wanted more. 

Wooyoung rested the roll of plastic onto the table, “Did you not want me to do that—?” 

“No!” San shook his head. “No— _no_ , that was—that was great.” 

“Good.” Wooyoung slid away from him, keeping his distance with a wistful smile, “I just thought you needed a little sweetness in your life.” 

San didn’t know what to say or do. What they’d done was pretty risky, But when he thought about it, he had to admit everything they’d done up to that point was risky. He couldn't allow Wooyoung to be in such danger anymore. He had to draw a line between them, even if it was going to hurt. 

Wooyoung's life was gonna change completely. And San didn't regret bringing him back. He only feared what was to come in their future. Because even though he couldn't touch the boy he loved, he was still going to make sure he gave him the happiness he deserved. 

Was this seriously how it was going to be from now on? It was only the first day and he felt disoriented, in a good way. 

San took the plastic wrap from the table to unravel it, holding it up to look at Wooyoung through the clear film. 

Yes, this was what his life looked like now. 

And it was going to be sweet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i maybe cried while writing this entire thing lol


End file.
